And I Will Watch You
by AniHanki
Summary: Jeanne was the one France wanted to wake up with in the morning, to laugh at silly jokes, to enjoy life with. One-Shot.


_And I Will Watch You_

* * *

_1429 _

_Forelsket: (Norwegian): The euphoria you experience when you're first falling in love_

"Out again?" France asked, his arms crossed, reclining on a tree. He glanced at the girl on his right, who had just sat down. Jeanne.

Jeanne nodded. She sat down, placed her arms behind her and leaned back. "The weather is nice today, so I decided to take a walk." She inhaled, facing the clear sky. A small smile formed.

France uncrossed his arms, flourishing his arms. "Well, of course! You are in France after all!"

"Of course," She grinned directly at him, and she was beautiful. France felt the euphoria you experience when you first fall in love, it was indescribable.

France knew he was in love with her.

So this is what falling in love feels like.

France knew what love was. And to give love, to spread love. To care for people time and time again.

But falling in love was different.

She was a girl who had visions of God, who was leading France into victory. An angel sent by God. She was strong and calm, independent and willing. She was captivating, enchanting.

She was absolutely beautiful. To France, everyone was beautiful. Everyone was lovely. But Jeanne was special. She was the most wonderful person France knew, and France knew she will still be the most wonderful person France knew forever. France longed for her smiles, her laughs, her bliss.

But she was going to fade, like those before him had. He learned to ignore it, to not get too close to the people around him. It was difficult, especially if you have found the one you know you will love for eternity.

He was still under the tree, watching Jeanne. He bit his lip, wondering how long she was going to live. How much more time does she have? It will all go by too fast, too soon.

It was a sudden realization, as France watched Jeanne. Jeanne was beautiful, joyous, bliss. With Jeanne, France lived. He felt alive. Through all governments and people toyed with, Jeanne was the one France wanted to wake up with in the morning, to laugh at silly jokes, to enjoy life with. France wanted to be alive with Jeanne.

But that could never happen, so every wink, smile, laugh that they shared, every conversation, every meeting, every encounter was precious to France. He felt alive, she made him feel alive.

And Jeanne was going to die. It tug on France's heart, every time he thought of it, he felt like he couldn't breathe. What would he do when she was gone? Was he going to break? He gazed at her, she didn't seem to have the same anxiety as he had. She seemed content, happy, relaxed. She was laying down, her arms crossed under her head, watching the clouds pass by.

France sighed, saying the words he had said over and over again. "I love you."

"I know."

_1431_

_Saudade (Portuguese): The feeling of longing for someone that you love and is lost._

Jeanne was dead. Was gone. Was never coming back. And he had done nothing to help her. Nobody did. France knelt by the bed, his hands on his temple. He knew, ever since the English got her. He knew she was going to die. He thought he was prepared.

He wasn't. When he heard, he stormed up to his quarters. Didn't utter a word.

Memories of Jeanne haunted him. The first time he saw her, when she knelt down by the king. When she told them about her visions of God. When she promised victory for France. The color of her hair, her eyes, her smile was gone. When they talked about the war, her words calmed him. When she was around him, he smiled easily. But now she was gone.

The room was cold, empty. _Lonely. _He felt so lost, Jeanne was everything to him. And she was gone. His hands were trembling, his eyes closed shut. He couldn't feel, think. All he knew that Jeanne was gone, never coming back, and he was going to live for years and never see her again. He was there with her in battle, guiding her, protecting her. But she was taken away.

Why didn't he save her? The words echoed in his head. Why was there even a war? Why was she taken away from her? _Why didn't she save her?_ The room was colder now. His thoughts only consisted of Jeanne. Time had flew, how long was he locked up in here? It was night now, the sky dark.

And he cried. He screamed, he yelled. He looked up to the skies, screamed. He needed Jeanne back. It was the feeling of longing for someone that you love and is lost. All his guilt, grief, his sorrows were consuming him. Tears were streaming down his face, his sobs could be heard throughout. Breathing in, he opened his eyes. He felt empty. He was unaware of his surroundings, he had entered an oblivion. Jeanne was gone. Jeanne was dead.

The words struck him, he cupped his mouth with his hand, trying to suppress his sobs.

Dead.

_1896_

_Wabi-Sabi (Japanese): A way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life._

France had witnessed many people fall in love. Like Josephine and Napoleon. France laughed, that was about a hundred years ago. Love was wonderful.

He was now in Paris, walking down the pleasing cobbled streets. Seeing people laugh, smile, and fall in love. It was beautiful. And that was what France was all about. People working at shops, enjoying themselves. The dusk, the wonderful air of Paris.

"W-Who are you?"

France looked up, a young man. Name: John Martine, Age: twenty-two. France took a step back. Well, this was sudden.

The man continued. "My grandfather took a picture with you when he was young. But you look exactly the same as you did in the picture. It's strange for someone's appearance to stay the same for fifty years, right?"

One of those people who had noticed. Well, a lot of people have noticed in his years. France placed a hand on the man's shoulders'. "I see! Say hello for me to your grandpa!"

He saw the man's confused expression, words. France decided to give him an answer. "If I had to say, I'd be a ship. They say, 'the government is the sails, the people the wind, and the times the sea,' right?" France smiled. "If the sails are unfurled and there is a good wind, the ships moves forward fine. There are times that it could suddenly run ashore and it'd be all over. So, it's something like that."

"But, sir, that didn't really…"

Of course he was confused. "As long as there are people to repair the ship, it can be used forever right?" The sails can change, the equipment can change, the crew can change. The ship will witness changes through years, know the crew, equipment it has, only to be changed again. Time and time again.

He walked away. People change, governments change, times change. It has been like that for over a thousand years, and it will probably be like that for a thousand more. France looked at his hand, he hadn't grown in about five hundred years.

He wished he could be meet someone, fall in love, live together, grow old together. To not meet people and find out they are dead years later. To find people you become close too, find out they have gone in a few years, when you still are the same. He wanted to have grey hair, wrinkled skin, he wanted to age. He thought it would be nice, to settle down.

He found a bench to sit down. It had been hard the first couple hundred years as he was. It was still hard, the terrible feeling of being alone. But he had to merely accept it. He placed his palm on his face, and smiled.

_2013_

_Retrouvailles (French): The happiness of meeting again after a long time._

He was walking down Normandy, saying hello to the people, looking at the shops. He loved walking down the streets, saying hello. Watching the smiles and laughs being spread. He had finished wishing a man a good day, he saw a ghost.

"Whoa, he's like a work of art." A girl whispered. Name: Lisa DeVries, Age: nineteen. He saw the same golden hair, the same turquoise eyes. She had the same beauty, joy, bliss. He was now standing right in front of her, unbelieving the sight in front of him.

"I'm sorry for taking your picture without asking!"

Unbelievable. She really was the same. He felt his mind trying to comprehend the girl in front of her."W-well, it's not like that. I'm sorry, too, for scaring you like that. It was just that you're so…" She was Jeanne. He was dreaming. He felt like crying. He felt like hugging her. He felt like a weight was lifted of her shoulders. He felt the happiness of meeting her again, after all these years. He was never more happier in his life.

He looked up at Lisa's confused expression, her eyes wide. France clenched his hand, breathed in. "Let's change the mood! If you like, shall I show you around?" France smiled, watching her expression. He felt his heart race, she was beautiful.

"Well…" The same hesitation.

He took the lead, wanting to talk to her more. God did wonderful things. "_Bien sur je vais bien_! Let's go!" He felt air-headed, happy.

He had led her up the mount, towards the monastery. Jeanne liked to come here, she said the breeze was refreshing. He could tell Lisa did too, as she did lit up. "This is a great spot where you can take in the beauty of the monastery and its surroundings." He said, leaning on the railings.

"You're right! Everything is beautiful!"

France smiled. His overwhelmed emotions were now turning into the similar sadness of having someone you cannot have.

Lisa turned her back from him, spoke timidly. "How should I address you? I'm Lisa." France could feel himself smile at her words.

"Me? You can call me Francis. My hobby is to go on strike!" France said, pointing to himself. He saw her unamused expression, smiling at every little action. He missed her so much, he missed everything about her.

He pointed up the stairs with flourish. "Up there, there's more beautiful scenery waiting for you!" They walked up, France sinking in the historical site. He remembered when it was filled with people. When he would say hello to the girls who came to play, talk to the men about how their day was, converse with the women.

"Do you know about the Hundred Years' War, Lisa?"

"Yes, a little."

France held up his hands. "It was a war between France and England. Territories, the throne… A number of things led to the war. The king was captured and they demanded a ransom of three million ecus. Oh, it was awful. I too, desperately worked on a plan and…" France shook his head. He could feel Lisa's stare, same as before.

Getting over it, he pointed to the building. "So, Mon Saint-Michel ended up as a stronghold during the war."

He remembered everything, he remembered every war. "When the Hundred Year's War reached the peak on its confusion, a girl swept in like the wind. She was an angel sent by God. She kneeled down before the disguised king and said… 'You're Highness, God instructed me to make you King.'" He looked at Lisa, remembering the determined expression.

"Do you know who she was?" France asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Jeanne d'Arc, right?" Lisa replied.

"That's right!" France exclaimed, extending his arms up. "She first lit a fire under the half-hearted King, then she released Orleans, brought the King to France, and succeeded in holding Charles VII's coronation ceremony." His hand formed into a fist.

Lisa leaned on the balcony. "It's amazing that this one girl did it all."

"And she did it all within four months. She really was wonderful girl." France's words were heavy, she was his life.

Lisa turned to him. "But if I remember right, she ended up being burned at stake, didn't she?" He felt his insides turn uncomfortably. He remembered that.

He closed his eyes. "It was May 30th, 1431… France abandoned her and no one came for her rescue." He looked away, remembering how pathetic he was, couldn't even save her. Didn't even come to see her. "The stronger one's patriotism is, the more often they end their lives in tragic ways. It's not like they did anything wrong." France felt himself making a fist, biting the inside of his cheek.

He inhaled. "That's enough talk. I'll tell you a bit more about myself." France said, the wind blowing. He loved her so much. "All the people that get tossed about in history – I always hope they will be reborn into a normal life," He wanted that. "Fall in love, and end up living happily somewhere."

He walked towards Lisa. He had to be happy for her. He had to stay calm. "And when I saw you, I thought God does wonderful things."

He took her hand in his, remembering the times that had passed. All the people he had met, loved. She was the only one that really mattered. Her hand was similar to before, but enough was enough.

"Be happy this time. It seems like my wish has already come true so..."

And he was gone.

* * *

_So, happy belated birthday France! I honestly always wanted to write this and I am very happy how it turned out. _

_I'm pretty sure the timeline for John and Lisa are okay. If you spot any mistakes please tell me! Please review/favorite!_


End file.
